Life and a Box of Crayons
by Dafna
Summary: A father son moment, sort of, shared by Jango and a five year old Boba Fett. plz R/R


I do not own the Fett's; if I did, I wouldn't need to go to school anymore, would I?  
  
***  
  
I lay in bed, listening to the rain above, and the waves below. For me, early morning is the best past of the day, I don't have to be up for another two hours, and my son won't be awake for another three.  
  
Boba, even though I asked for him to be created five years ago, the more I thought about it, the more odd it seemed, to have a "little me" running around. But there were already a bunch of those other clones around. And if I'm not careful, I could be overwhelmed with an identity crisis very quickly. Boba and I share the same genetic make-up, but he has a personality all his own. I remember being his age and nowhere near as carefree. But a different set of trials await him, then they did for me.  
  
A strange sound caught my attention, and I sit up, listening intently. I hear more shuffling outside my door. I decided to go investigate; I stand up and walk towards the door. I press the key and the door hisses open, and I see my son sitting at the table, coloring.  
  
"What are you doing up so early?" I ask him as I walk towards where he's sitting.  
  
"Nothing." He answers.  
  
"Doesn't look much like nothing." I sit down next to him. "Mind if I color with you?"  
  
"Sure," he pushes a piece of paper my way. I pick up some crayons and begin on my picture. "What are you drawing there?"  
  
"Nothing really, just drawing."  
  
"Well, it looks very nice for 'just a drawing'." Boba gives me a strange look, and I smile back at him. "Are you having bad dreams again?" He nods, not looking up at me. "Would you like to tell me about them?"  
  
"Alright," he sighed, I let him take his time. "I was in a dark room, I couldn't see anything. Then, I saw a bunch of eyes, glowing in the dark." I looked at him, almost in shock. "And after that, three bright white lights shown down on me. I could hear whispering, but I couldn't tell what they were saying. Then I heard your voice," he looked up at me with large eyes. "But it was coming in all sorts of directions, and I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there." He went back to coloring. "Then I woke up."  
  
I didn't say anything right away; I was recalling the same dream. It still plagues me, but only once a year, at most. Seeing the same eyes staring and the same bright white lights, and my father's voice coming out from the whispering. I shook my head slightly, shaking the memory; and I look more closely at Boba's drawing. There was a lot of black with specks of white, and three white columns in the center. I thought to myself, 'What did my father say to me about those dreams?' I continued coloring on my sheet of paper.  
  
"How many times have you had that dream?" I asked finally.  
  
"That was the fourth one in a month." I nodded.  
  
"Well, you know that dreams can't hurt you, right? They're only pictures in your head."  
  
"I know, I try to go back to sleep, but I just can't."  
  
"I understand. I still have bad dreams too." I said.  
  
"You do? What do you do about them?" Boba look up at me questioningly, while I'm thinking, 'I hope this works.'  
  
"I tell them to leave me alone."  
  
"And they do?" I nod and smile at him. "I'll try that next time." He went back to coloring.  
  
"Good," I put down the crayons, and slid my picture across the table. "Now, how about I get us something to eat, huh?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
I stood up and ran my hand through his hair; then I walked away from the table, breathing a little sigh of relief. As I started to prepare the meal, I looked back out to my son. He was holding my picture, and sliding his away. I smiled and continued my task, silently wondering if what I had drawn was the best thing. It was Slave I, docked in Tipoca City, the clouds parted and the sun showing through.  
  
We do have the same genetic code, and now the same recurring dream, but I remain confident that Boba and I are two different people, with two different paths. I cannot bring him onto mine, nor will I try to. I train him only to become something better than what I am now, a bounty hunter (despite the fact that my reputation is that I am 'best bounty hunter in the galaxy'). All I can do, is hope that my efforts will not be in vain. 


End file.
